


wires got crossed

by ChaiFighter



Series: things they left [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Suicide Notes, bets on how long it takes them to find it?, depends on how you take them, evan leaves a longass suicide note, it's all evan's letters to them, my beta doesn't know i'm doing this, ngl it's pretty fuckin edgy, or eleven relatively short suicide notes, there are no real characters in this, writing this fic was a dark place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 06:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14665487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaiFighter/pseuds/ChaiFighter
Summary: "I don't want to be annoying with a ridiculously long suicide note, but I also really want to just write it all, you know? I’ve never said any of these things and I just want to say them before I can’t. I want someone to hear it as I fall."----Evan writes eleven letters.





	wires got crossed

**Author's Note:**

> i am 100% unqualified to write this but here i go anyway. if anything is strongly problematic (meaning above average problematic-ness for this fandom), please let me know. 
> 
> (a year ago when i wrote this it started out vaguely inspired by thirteen reasons why but with less bullshit. then today when i dusted it off i decided fuck that. so you know. fuck that. even if you can still totally tell how it began.)

_[A sheaf of papers inside a manila envelope. Plain white printer paper, 11pt Arial font, single-sided, unstapled and uncreased.]_

_[Unaddressed preface sheet:]_

If you’re falling in a forest and nobody’s around, the only sound you make is the echo inside your own skull as you hit the ground. I used to wonder if you made noise, but I know now. I figured it out. I tried it, and I laid there, and no one came because no one heard.

It feels sometimes like I’ve been falling for years, you know? Like I’ve been falling down a canyon and bouncing off the sides, still going but also feeling impact after impact without a final stop. It’s hard to explain. This is probably stupid, sorry. I mean, leave it to me to mess up my own suicide note. Sorry. Now I’m rambling, that’s bad. Sorry.

Anyway, here I am, writing. Trying, badly, to explain why I did it. There are a lot of reasons. And I don't want to be annoying with a ridiculously long suicide note, but I also really want to just write them all, you know? I’ve never said any of these things and I just want to say them before I can’t. I want to at least try to make a sound. I want someone to hear it as I fall. So here you are, the final crash of Evan Hansen. I’ll be a spectacle at least. I’ll leave something interesting behind.  

There are eleven reasons I plan on giving, because that’s just how many there are, though eleven is a pretty stupid number. It’s dumb. It’s definitely dumb. Sorry.

All of these letters are meant to be taken together as one big note, but give the original copy of each letter to whoever’s name is on it when you're done. Except Connor’s. Give that to Zoe.  
  


 

Dear Green Valley High School,

You don’t deserve this letter, really. It’s probably unkind of me, to leave this behind for all of you to make you feel guilty. But I guess you shouldn't really feel guilty. It’s not like any of you actually like me, so I guess maybe it’s fine. But if it is mean of me, I’m sorry. I don’t want to be like that at all.

Some of you I’ve known for years. Others of you I have never met. I’m sure most of you have never even heard of me. That’s fine, I never really tried to make it so you would have. I’m not trying to accuse you or anything, I’m just trying to state facts and it’s getting away from me.

Sorry.

Green Valley student body, you’re a reason why because you’re there. You’re the setting to the story, the backdrop and the fly rig. You’re a reason less because you did something and more because you did not. You’re the context. You’re the exposition. And that makes you part of the story.

I don’t have a lot to say to you, the general student body, except that I’m sorry for taking up your time whenever I started rambling at you and for whatever inconvenience might result from my death, like if you have to attend an assembly or something. Those are awful. And, just, I wish I could have been a part of you. You know? I don’t know. It’s stupid. Sorry. I just, I wanted that. I wanted to fit. But that’s not your fault, it’s mine, so I guess that doesn't mean much for you anyway.

Thanks for listening, I guess. And I’m sorry.

Sincerely,

Evan Hansen

P.S. to whoever finds this first, you don’t actually have to show this to the whole student body. I think I wanted to write it more than I need anyone to actually read it.

  
  


Dear Alana Beck,

You’re probably wondering why I’m writing you specifically, when we hardly knew each other. I’m not really sure why either, except that I had a reason but it wasn’t a person and you seemed to fit the bill. Sorry if you’re busy and I’m interrupting or something. You’re always busy.

Alana Beck, I’m writing you this letter because of what you represent. You’re such a go-getter and you’re so on top of things and you just-- you’re something I wish I could be, you know? You’re the textbook example of ‘rise to the challenge’ and I think if I could be like you that maybe I could handle the challenge of living a while longer.

But I’m not. Like you. I’m not strong enough, or I don’t know, solicitous enough? I’m not going to go to college, which is probably good, since I have so little to put on a resume anyway. I doubt anywhere would want me.

So here’s a letter addressed to you, written to the idea of you. Sorry to screw up your schedule for it, I know you’re really busy. I just-- I don’t know. I’m sorry.

Stay strong, stay smart. You’ll change the world someday.

Sincerely,

Evan Hansen

  
  


Dear Jason Mathern,

I suppose for you this is more of a notice than anything that would be meaningful, but I’ll write it anyway because you’re an important reason. You’re not a big reason, but. According to my therapist you left at an ‘important developmental time’ for me, so you probably helped contribute to the level of messed up I finally turned out. I mean, I'm crazy enough to want to die, so that’s pretty bad. You definitely had something to do with that

You ruined trucks for me, you know. I was a truck kid, but then you left in one and I didn’t like them anymore. That’s not important, I just thought you should know, I’m not sure why I thought that, sorry. I didn’t mean to accuse. I’m sorry.

Although I do kind of mean to accuse.

You abandoned Mom. That’s the part I can’t forgive, you know? I can see not caring about me, but you left Mom to work herself to the bone _for_ me, and that’s. That’s not okay.

Anyway, yeah. I don’t really know you now. It’s been years since we even talked, so I suppose this letter doesn’t matter all that much to either of us. That’s a lie. It matters a lot to me, though it shouldn’t. You probably don’t care much, though. I don’t blame you. I wouldn't either.

But yeah. I’ll be dead when you get this. Won’t change much for you.

Sincerely,

Evan Hansen

  
  


Dear Dr. Sherman,

I want to apologize to you, because I’ve wasted your time. You’ve spent so much time trying to help me. I know you’ve done your best, and I’m thankful that you tried, I really am. It just wasn’t enough. I’m not sure anything could have been.

You're a good therapist, I promise. I don’t want you to think that my terrible decisions have anything to do with you, because they don’t. I guess that means you’re not a reason like these letters are all supposed to be. I’m deviating from concept. Can’t even do my own suicide notes right. I guess that makes me feel a little better about those letters I messed up trying to follow your instructions. I was just never meant to be an awesome letter-writer. Or something. That sounds stupid.

I want to ask you a question, even though I’ll never get an answer. Do you really believe it? All the stuff about getting better, and thinking positively, and the other things. I never really did, but I think I eventually started to believe that you believed it. I’ll admit, believing in your belief helped me a little. If the answer is yes, and you do believe it, don’t stop believing it just because I’m too messed up for you to help me. It’ll help some other kid, I swear. If it was enough to help me a little, it’ll probably save someone else.

If my death is a spot on your record or something, I’m really sorry. I don’t want to mess things up for you. I mean, if I were you I’d probably be glad to get rid of me. I bet it was like shouting at a brick wall to try and fix me. I’m sorry for that. But if it’s bad for your reputation or something, I’m so sorry. I don’t want that. You’re good.

Thank you, for trying. It means a lot.

Sincerely,

Evan Hansen

  
  


Dear Larry Murphy,

There are two parts of you I want to address. They’re both part of why you’re one of my reasons, but one is a lot more important than the other.

The first is who you are to me.

The second is who you were to Connor.

You know how my dad is out of the picture, but I’m not sure you ever realized how you replaced him. For the last three years you’ve been almost a dad to me, and I can’t even begin to tell you how much that means. You have your problems, but I’ve just been so thankful for a father figure that I’ve usually found them easy to forgive. Connor always thought I was being blind-- and he’s right, I was-- but even now I’m not sure I care that I wasn’t seeing clearly. I was so thankful-- and I am, I still am. You’ve filled a space that needed filling. You gave me a relationship I wanted desperately. Thank you.

That’s the good part.

You were also occasionally an ignorant, homophobic jerk and you're probably about least a third of the reason Connor is dead.

That’s the bad part.

Over this last summer, Connor slipped away from me. It happened so fast. It feels like forever when I think about it, but objectively I know it happened over a single month. Three years up in smoke, just like that. Someone said something to him, and I don’t know what it was, but I know it was you. You’re the only one with that power over him who would actually use it.

Maybe ‘ignorant, homophobic jerk’ is an exaggeration and a bit unfair, but at the same time you were all those things. You pretended that Connor was straight, you grumbled about getting him therapy. Your kid was spiraling, and you thought he just needed to be told, ‘Get better!’ Like saying it sternly enough and taking away privileges and needling his every action for not being ‘tough’ would make it happen.

You’re less than a fraction of my death-- but you were so much of his.

I can’t forgive that.

I’m not saying Connor was a saint or that you were evil, but I also think he deserved more credit than you gave him, and more support than you offered. And I just can’t forgive that.

You try your best, I know. You so hard to do the right thing, all the time. But I think maybe you need a reevaluation of what’s actually the right thing.

What does any of this have to do with me offing myself? Well, see the list. I’m gay, and in therapy, and you’re my surrogate father figure, who doesn’t appreciate either of those things. You’re a significant reason for Connor’s suicide, and Connor’s suicide is a part of mine.

I love you like a dad, Larry Murphy, but there are some things.

That said, I’m sorry. I know you want a son almost as badly as I want a dad, and this will be both candidates gone. But you still have Zoe. Pay more attention to her-- the real her, not the idea you have of her. It’ll be good for both of you.

I’m going through and rewriting this letter to edit out all the other apologies I’ve written. I know I apologize too much, and for most of these letters I haven’t bothered to change it, but I’ll make an exception for yours.

Thank you. Sorry. Screw you.

Sincerely,

Evan Hansen

  
  


Dear Cynthia Murphy,

Thank you for treating Connor sort of like a person and trying to reach out to him, even if it only worked a couple times. I wish you’d been as good to him as you have been to me, and I wish you’d have stopped once in a while to actually _see_ him, but still. You tried.

I’m sorry for leaving. You’ve told me I’m like a son to you, and if that’s the case, I’m sorry for making this two of them you’ve lost.

You’re a reason, as much as I hate to tell you. I considered leaving out why, but that seemed unfair, so here it is:

You remind me that Connor is dead.

I’m sorry, it’s an awful reason, and it hardly makes sense even to me, but that’s what it is. It’s not your fault. But I can’t do it.

Thank you for everything. And I’m sorry.

Sincerely,

Evan Hansen

  
  


Dear Zoe Murphy,

Did you know I was totally in love with you in seventh grade? I hadn’t figured out yet that I was gay, and I think now it might have mostly been because you reminded me of Connor, but I was head over heels. I can admit that now.

Zoe Murphy, you are one of the most incredible people on the face of this planet. You’re confident, and fun, and I’ve always wanted to be more like you. You’re kind, you’re funny. If I weren’t gay and stuck on your dead brother, I’d probably still be crazy in love with you.

You’re a reason because I remind you of him.

Really this reason goes for your parents too, but it would clutter Larry’s letter, and I think it would just make your mom cry to read, so I’m putting it in yours. You’ll all be better without me. It may not seem like it, but you'll see, I promise. I know when you look at me all three of you see him, or some remnant of him. And I know it hurts, because it hurts me whenever I see him in your face. So I’m removing the the reminder.

I’m sorry for hurting you in the short run, but it’ll be better with enough time. If I stay, you’ll be stuck with the reminder your entire life. I’m pulling out the splinter to let the wound heal.

That was a pretty pretentious metaphor, sorry.

Anyway, I want you to know, Zoe Murphy, that I love you like a sister. Don’t miss me too much, please. I don’t want to hurt you more than can be helped. Just think of it as the sting of ripping off a bandaid. Better to do it all at once; you’ll feel better sooner that way.

Thank you, and I’m sorry. Tell Larry not to be too hurt by my letter. The good mostly outweighed the bad.

Take some flowers to the grave for me?

Sincerely,

Evan Hansen

P.S. Take my letter to Connor, and his to me (in my desk drawer), and burn them both together. I don’t care where or how, though if you rolled them into a weed cigarette and smoked it under the tallest tree in the old apple orchard, that would be pretty poetic. But maybe a little pretentious. However you do it, just burn both letters at once. It’s a closure thing, for me. I don’t care what you do with the ashes afterward.

Thank you again, Zoe. For everything.

  
  
  


Dear Jared Kleinman,

I know we’re just family friends, and I know you just hang out with me for your car insurance, but you’re still one of the few friends I’ve ever had. So thanks for that. You’re a reason because you’re a jerk, and because you make me feel like crap every time we have a conversation. I miss being actual friends. You might not make this list if I didn’t feel so awful about Now vs. Then. But I guess this is just how it worked out.

Sorry you won’t have a reason for your parents to pay for stuff anymore. Sorry to abandon you. I know you have about as many friends as I do. But I mean. You’re welcome. You won’t have to spend time with me anymore. So that’s a plus.

Sincerely,

Evan Hansen

  
  


Dear Connor Murphy,

Screw you for dying. I love you too. I have since we were fifteen. You’re better than anyone believes you are, including yourself. Of the people you care about your dad is literally the only one who really cares that you’re gay, and his opinion on that matter is invalid. I never wanted you to leave. I love you. You are the best friend I have ever had.

I have a lot of things I’ve been wanting to tell you, but those are the most important.

I have a lot of things I’ve been wanting to ask you, too. Why would you push me away like that? What could your dad possibly have said to you to make you cut me out completely? How could you leave me? How could you tell me something so important as ‘I love you’ in a fucking suicide note?

I’d love to have answers, but for now I’ll have to settle for just asking.

It’s been four months. I think that’s long enough that I’m not making this decision out of impulse and grief like you might have thought closer to when you died. This is planned, intended. I’ve wanted to die since well before you went through with it. I wish you'd told me what you were planning. I’d have done it with you. We could have gone out together.

I miss you so much. I don’t have any real friends without you. God, if you’d stayed, we might have stopped being friends and started being boyfriends. Wouldn’t that have been cool?

You’re a reason I’m dying. You’re one of the most important ones. It’s because you’re gone, and because you had the audacity to go without me, and because I’m reminded of you every second I spend with your family, or with Zoe, or anywhere. It doesn’t matter where I am, I remember you. You won’t leave me alone.

And thank you, Connor Murphy. You gave me the drive to go through with this. You're a reason because now I have an example to follow. I still hate that you're dead, but as a goal? You're pretty effective.  

I love you, you jerk. Find find me on the other side.

Yours,

Evan

  
  


Dear Mom,

This is the hardest letter to write. I’m not even dead yet and I miss you, and it’ll probably hurt you that you’re one of my reasons. But just listen. Try to understand.

I’m so sorry you got stuck with me. I’ll never stop being sorry. I’ll probably still be sorry once I’m dead. You deserved so much better than me. I wish you’d gotten a kid who wasn’t such a mess, because I’m just a mess of a person and I’m beyond help and please don’t try to deny that, we both know it’s true. Or I know, and you know but refuse to see it. You always see the best in me, even when it’s not actually there.

I know you love me, and I love you. But this is for the best. It may not feel like it, but you’ll be better without me. You try so hard. You work until you drop to put me through school, to keep us both afloat. You work so hard to keep me alive. But you won't have to work like that anymore. You won’t have to stress about my future or how you’re going to pay for two people or where I am at all times or whether I’ve offed myself today. It’ll have happened. I’ll be gone. You won’t have to worry. No more drain, no more stress. You’ll be free.

I love you. So I’m setting you free.

I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry for leaving, but I’m more sorry for being such a burden to you for so long when I was just going to kill myself eventually anyway. I’m sorry you invested so much in me, just for me to waste it. But you’ll see. It’s for the best.

Use the college account to do something nice for yourself. You deserve everything nice in the world.

Thank you. I’m so, so sorry. I love you.

Evan

  
  


Dear Evan Hansen,

Today is going to be a good day, and here’s why. Today, you’re done. It’s finished. You’re free.

Today you’re going to die, and it’s going to be the best day of your life.

Evan Hansen, you’re a reason because you’re nothing. You apologize when you shouldn’t, you bunch your shoulders when you walk, you look down all. The damn. Time. You take and you take and you have nothing meaningful to contribute in return. You’re a black hole of a person.

Today you’re going to die, and it’s going to be the best day because you helped kill Connor Murphy. You didn’t tell him soon enough that you loved him, and maybe then he’d have stayed, or you could have left together. It’s going to be the best day because not only are you setting yourself free, you're setting free the people you love. They’ll be better without you. It’s going to be the best day because you’re finally going to be able to just _stop_ for a second, like you haven’t been able to ever in your life. You’ll be able to stop thinking.

You’re going to die, and it’ll be fine because this is what you want. This is what you’ve wanted since you were ten and you saw a story on the news about a woman who shot herself and you suddenly had a name for that terrible, all-consuming need. This is what’s best for you, because now you won’t have to worry anymore about how little impact you make on the world. You’ll make one last sound, and then you’ll never be concerned about the sounds you make ever again.

Evan Hansen, you’re a reason because you’re sick in the brain. That's it, that's all there is to it, no abuse or neglect, just your wires got crossed and now you want to die. There are eleven reasons, but you’re the biggest, you’re ninety nine percent of your own death. The last one percent, the other ten letters, that’s just the scraps you added along the way, a little side show for your one true motive.

Dear Evan Hansen. Today is going to be a good day and here's why. Today you’ll take a long climb, and then you’ll take a single small step. It will feel like you’re flying.

Today, you’ll die. Congratulations. Don't mess it up.

Sincerely,

Me

**Author's Note:**

> :-)
> 
> Edit: An aftermath fic is now in the works. Follow the series to be notified when it's published.


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